Cinco de Chocobo
by Vestergaard
Summary: [One-shot] The Wutai War takes many prisoners and none are safe from Shinra,Inc. even chocobos. Sephiroth and Ester centric. You know you're curious.


"Cinco de Chocobo"  
a one shot  
by Great Materia Hunter Yuffie

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(AN: This was a challenge fic. I had to write a bar scene with two characters, whose names I drew out of a hat. I drew Ester and Sephiroth.)

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There was a silence in the room that was so overwhelming that it stretched their minds thin with its gray and tepid strain. At the edge of consciousness was that mindlessly buzzing fly-noise that had nothing to do with insects and that only happened when thought itself halted, caught between synapses.

A ceiling fan spun idly around, pushing around the humidity and creaking episodically. The fan hung, (slightly skewed in its mooring by the worker who hung it initially) from a ceiling in a bar in a semi-permanent military encampment in southern Wutai.

None of the SOLDIERs or MPs outside looked up. Instead, they directed their vision toward the ground, shuffling through the heat and wiping their helmeted foreheads and cleaning their weapons, and wondered if they would die when they finally confronted the prideful, vile menace that was their enemy.

The actual war was being fought further north on the island. Tales of the horrible casualties their side was taking trickled slowly down the continent like sweat. When the soldiers spoke, it was in hushed tones and grave premonitions. It was impossible to take prisoners, because the enemy still fought even after surrendering. Those westerners were going to force Shinra to slaughter them, women and children and all.

The call to the front would come any day.

Those in the bar didn't whisper to each other. They were the ones who had already given up on gossip for comfort and turned their sorrows toward solitary thought. They took their liquor ration and downed it, glaring at the empty bottom and at the men around them, hiding their fear with despair and cheap whiskey.

There was one man, however, who never took his liquor ration. He was in a corner, alone, almost hidden in shadow.

The fluorescent lights flickered at him, the fan crooned and spun.

The soldiers in the bar kept turning to look at that corner. To see if he was still there. The only reason there hadn't been any desertions was because of their fear of this man. The Lieutenant Colonel had told his battalion that he would personally hunt them down if they deserted.

They believed him.

And no one ran.

Those in the bar kept glancing at him, their hunched backs not totally hiding their scrutiny. They wondered if the stories about him were true and if he could really do the things they'd heard about and, #$, could he somehow hear their thoughts and kill them for treason anyway? For just thinking of running?

The barkeeper shook his head, wishing the Lieutenant Colonel would leave and quit scaring the customers. As the minutes passed, more of the foot soldiers left the room, uncomfortable. First Class SOLDIERS wandered in, seemingly drawn there unwillingly, placing themselves around the room and conversing quietly.

He seemed to be ignoring the men, looking at the fan with a blank expression. There was a half-empty glass of water on the small table next to him. His infamous sword was propped against the wall, next to his left hand.

The already nervous soldiers jumped when the door popped open. An MP rushed in, breathing hard, and stopped in front of the Lieutenant Colonel, saluting.

"Sir!"

The commander didn't look up. He continued to look at the fan and picked up his glass, swirling the lukewarm water in the glass like it was wine. The MP began to sweat, but gallantly held his salute. The commander slowly turned his head to face the soldier, with a expression that held nothing. The soldier almost blanched, but he kept his face neutral, swallowing nervously.

"Sir! A spy has been captured outside the town!"

The officer blinked unhurriedly. "Where?" he spoke, so monotonously it was a statement, a demand.

The MP calmed more. "To the south, very near this encampment."

The commander stared hard at the MP, taking a sip of water. Then, he sat back in his seat, never breaking that unnerving look. "I _meant_," he said, words clipped with irritation, "Where is the spy currently?"

Sweat ran into the MP's eye and he blinked. "The spy is in custody."

The commander turned back to his perusal of the fan on the ceiling. "Bring him here for interrogation."

"Excuse me, sir," the MP was staring above the commander's head, trying to avoid looking at him. "The spy is a female, sir."

The Lieutenant Colonel blinked once, almost surprised. Almost. It was well-known that the enemy employed as many female troops as Shinra did. There was officially no distinction between gender at the former weapons company, Shinra Inc. The POW policy was the same as well.

"Dismissed."

The minutes passes, stretched by the heat and languid air drifting down from the tilted fan. Some of the First Class SOLDIERS were conversing, their voices quiet.

Something pink out of the corner of their vision made them turn as a group toward the door, all conversation turned off, like a dripping faucet.

A woman stood in the doorway, but she was not dressed in a soldier's uniform. She wore a pink and yellow dress with a big gaudy ribbon in her hair and a confused, wary expression on her face. Her hands were tied tightly behind her back. An MP shoved her in the room, prodding her in the back with his GI rifle.

She stepped forward and spoke earnestly. "I told you that I have paperwork! You won't listen to me! I'm not a spy!"

The MP wordlessly cuffed her in the back of the neck and she fell to her hands and knees and screwed her eyes shut.

Someone began to laugh.

The sharp, echoing sound _grated_ on them. Collectively, they turned again, toward the Lieutenant Colonel. He still sat, clutching his chest and shaking, laughing, with his eyes shut and silver hair spilling down around his throat and chest.

The soldiers looked at each other, uncomfortable. The First Class SOLDIERS grinned, although they didn't get the joke.

His laughter subsided until he shook silently, smirking at the woman kneeling on the floor of the bar. He brushed his hair back and shook his head slowly.

"How are you, Ester?" he said, eyes intent. His eyes still traced his former humor, but the set of his jaw was stern.

She shook her head in disbelief. "_Sephiroth? _What is going on here?"

He smirked again. "Release her. Get her something to drink."

The soldier roughly jerked her to her feet, then untied her and shoved her into a seat by the Lieutenant Colonel's table. A few seconds later, someone slammed a mug of cheap liquor in front of her, flecking her with yellow foam. Ester brushed at her dress and grimaced.

She considered him contemplatively. "So you decided to work for Shinra? They raised you or something, didn't they? It figures," she muttered. "You were a good student. A smart kid. I guess they always get the good ones."

He ignored her comment. "I refuse to believe you are a spy. It's ridiculous," Sephiroth said thoughtfully.

She glowered at him. "Why is it ridiculous?" she demanded. "Because I'm a girl?"

He took another sip and looked at her impassively. "If the great Lord Godo needed a spy, he wouldn't let her dress like a clown."

She blushed an angry red. "How dare you! Just because I'm no longer your teacher doesn't give you the right-"

He cut her off with a wave. "Quiet." He leaned back and did not look at her. "So. My former chocobo riding instructor suddenly appears on the plains of southern Wutai while a war is going on." He frowned. "At the very least, suspicious behavior."

She folded her arms and scowled.

"What are you doing here?" Again, it was more of a demand than a question.

She sighed and primly placed her hands on her puffy dress. "I come here every year to catch chocobos for Billy. I have the paperwork. It's completely legal. You idiots are being extremely rude."

He blinked again. "That paperwork will only work with the Wutaian government. Unfortunately for you, you have been caught smuggling chocobos from territory Shinra has control of. Whatever shall we do with you?"

Some of the SOLDIERS laughed. Ester went a little paler. At a gesture from Sephiroth, two MP's approached and lifted her bodily from her chair.

He stood up and strode toward her, taking his time. "I have a proposal for you, Ester. Chocobos are still the best bet for mountainous terrain, but we don't have nearly enough of them to make a difference. You help us capture and train the wild chocobos in the area. Then, when the war is over, you go your own way."

"No." She looked horrified. "No! I won't do that! I'm against using chocobos in war. You know that. How could you ask me to do something like that?"

Either do this," he leaned toward her, invading her personal space, his words deep and filled with ennui, "or you will be sent to Junon, branded as a spy and a traitor and put to death."

She began to hyperventilate. "I won't do it. I can't. I can't train chocobos just to send them to their deaths! They have nothing to do with your human war!"

He spoke calmly, as if the conversation had no import. "All things have to do with this war. The chocobos will be used, with or without you. The only difference is the quality and duration of your life."

She clenched her jaw, bow bobbing as she struggled in the MP's grips. "I refuse! I can't believe I was your teacher! You didn't learn anything! You're a monster!"

He frowned slightly. "I am a monster because I decide to utilize the native fauna to my advantage? You are ridiculous and idealistic."

At another gesture, one of the First Class SOLDIERS clubbed her in the back of the head. She went limp. One of his difficulties all but solved, the commander almost smiled. "Take her to the detention center and give her special treatment. Not too harsh, just enough to change her mind. We don't want her death."

They dragged her away and he returned to his seat. The humidity in the room was thicker than before, like a storm was about to burst upon them.

Sephiroth considered the fan, weaving the thick air throughout the troubled room, circulating it like bad temper and bureaucracy, performing no useful action but to aggravate.

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A.N. I write emo. Curses. Also, the Shinra military system is blatantly based off the United States' military. Muah! 


End file.
